Anarchy in the WC
by blank82
Summary: LoganVeronica. Conversations from the floor of a bathroom. Oneshot.


**(AN: Set before Lily's death)**

Anarchy in the WC

If human bodies were meant to consume liquor, than Veronica figured she would not be in the washroom watching her boyfriend exhibit his stomach contents across the sticky orange tiles.

"Oh god, that's not pretty to look at." Logan commented from a safe spot against the doorway, not offering any help to the equation.

A guy like Duncan weighed more than one would ever think. You didn't think much to look at him, but in the case of dragging his punch drunk ass across the defiled ground, Veronica was having a hard time stopping herself from hacking his body into thirds and just transporting the pieces one by one to the desired destination.

"Duncan, the bathroom floor is not a convenient location to spill your guts," her hand had packed-up an iron-grip on the back of his shirt, "Seeing your current occupation as a boozehound, it might be hard to remember that you are a human being. Not a gargantuan bathroom mop."

"Or Courtney Love in drag," Logan called over from his sanctuary corner, safe from his best friend's upchucking chops.

"You know," she told Logan, completely aware of the pissed off undertone in her own voice, "The view is better over here."

"I beg to differ," he said, his gaze flickering down to a region of her physique he probably shouldn't have been staring at.

Unbelievable.

"Lilly says you're constantly sticking weird disgusting things in your mouth," she told Duncan, bringing her attention to the fact his mouth was a little too close to her face. "I think that may be why you are…" a mad gesture was conceived with her hand, "… doing this."

"Or maybe it is because he spent the entire evening guzzling gin martinis."

"…Once again," she turned to Logan, "Your fruitless comments are useless in part of our benefit."

"Oh no. They benefit me fine."

Duncan, who had finished wiping the sick off his face, chose that moment to pipe up, "Glad to see that being genuinely sober for once in your life has in no way effected your biting wit." Sarcasm was a strange color on Duncan.

"And I am glad to see that the lack of sobriety on your part has in no way affected your undying fetish for pretty toiletries," Logan deadpanned in return.

Duncan turned to Veronica, "Tell Logan he looks like shit in this light."

"Veronica," There was a hand cupping either sides of her cheeks. Hello, Logan. "…my girlfriend's special friend. Tell Duncan if he can't keep down the fruity booze, stick to the girly beer."

"You look like shit in this light," she said, swatting his hand away.

"Oh, how funny it is that he could still see with his head halfway stuck down the john," he faced Duncan, "You look like shit in any light."

Duncan responded through emptying his guts inside the toilet bowel.

"Great. We've got one Kane prodigy under control." For the sake of keeping her gaze off her regurgitating companion's WC adventures, Veronica turned to Logan, "Where's the other one?"

"Lilly, may Lucifer bless her brassy soul, is seeking to deflower Dick's kid brother."

"Aha." She gave Duncan's back a couple whacks when he collapsed in a profuse coughing fit, followed by another choppy tribute to Spencer Tracey. Her neck was beginning to throb from craning around to look at Logan. "So Lilly's out doing her thing. I take it you'll be whore-hounding tonight?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"I'm sorry. I take it you'll be slut-searching tonight?"

There was not an automatic response, because Logan happened to gather enough guts for that moment to step across Duncan's sick and take a squatting seat beside her. "I'll have to deliver Duncan here my infamous hangover-dissipater first," he knocked Duncan on the head a couple times, promoting a muffled grunt from the latter party, "Isn't that right, Bonaduce?"

"Huh. What exactly is this infamous hangover-dissipater?"

"More beer."

"I see."

"And a keg to stick his head in when it implodes."

Duncan groaned. "That… is already taken care of, man." he knocked his forehead across the seat. It was a bit funny, how something so simple to take—you didn't even have to chew beer—was so difficult to keep down.

"Girly beer is not manly, Veronica." Duncan muttered from his spot against the wall.

She looked at Logan. "I believe he just called me a man."

"Or at least referred to you as masculine."

"How flattering," a frown was creased the sides of her mouth as Veronica reached out to poke Duncan's arm, "Honestly, never in a million years could I have imagined my boyfriend placing his head on a flushing butt-rest," She turned to Logan, "I did I expect this from you though."

"Your faith in my whore-hounding existence is astounding."

"Fascinating. I was never one to liberate slut-searchers."

"What part of that is supposed to shock me, Cherry Sue?"

The satiric query prompted Veronica to give his shoulder a deserved shove, "Another jab at my virginity, Fabio?"

"No," he scooted away, "If I took a jab at your virginity, you would know it."

"Your crudeness is uncanny," she responded dryly.

"It is one of a kind."

Duncan let out another moan in agony. "Why didn't anyone stop me?" Veronica took a wild guess he was not just talking about dipping his hair in the toilet water. "I don't think I've ever felt more like a hiking boot in my entire life."

"Probably because you've been perched on the ground for the past five minutes," Logan supplied

From the girl kneeling less-than-adoringly beside her gagging boyfriend, there came a deeply irritated glare, "Why are you still here?"

Logan sent a broad sweep of his arm towards Duncan's way, "Because this atrocious thing you see here barfing it up all over my very expensive shoes is a much better pool player than Dick Casablancas."

"Who isn't?"

"Damn the day I have to play pool with Mr. 'what, so I whack my balls with the stick?' Casablancas ever again. And I can only continue this wish if Duncan does not die from fruity-beer poisoning this very night."

And so they sat… kneeled, actually. Considering the less-than-catchy phrase 'One fuck with Kitt is like a romp with Brad Pitt!' scrawled across the door, neither party found it very wise to sit butt-down on the bathroom floor.

This was one thing they actually agreed on. That, and the fact Duncan should never consume another case of alcohol-related product for as long as he lived.


End file.
